2 AM And Breathless
by DreaminDaze
Summary: It's 2 am when the walls are closing in and you can't breathe. It's 2 am when you're so lonely you want to scream. It's 2 am when your own little lonely world comes crashing down and you think you won't make it. Please read and review.


**A short, experimental oneshot, me trying to write in the second person. Lilly centric, with some mentions of Scotty because I couldn't help it, but a real depart from my usual shipperiness. Any mistakes are mine, didn't really do much editing, so what you're all seeing is a first draft. Lyrics by Anna Nalick.  
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**WARNING: What lies ahead is extremely angsty, and more than a little depressing. Hurt, without the comfort. Whatever you'd like to describe it as. If that's not for you, don't read it. I don't want to offend anyone. **

**Disclaimer: if i pretend to own them, would I get sued? I'm not actually sure, let me get back to you on that one.

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**2 AM And Breathless **

'_**Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable  
life's like a hourglass glued to the table…**_

It's 2 am and you're lying in bed when you think maybe you don't have it all figured out.

Sure, you've never considered yourself master of the balancing act called life, but you always figured you had the basics down. Breathe, eat, sleep, love… that last one never really comes easily to you. Its partners, laughter and happiness, make a habit of eluding you too. With a slight, rueful smile, you think about the way your breath catches in your throat, the takeout and frozen food that populates your kitchen, and the countless nights you've lain awake and realize maybe the other aren't so easy either. But it's that last one you really want.

With a surge of irritation, you throw off the covers and flick on the light. A dim, yellow glow fills the room, not quite reaching the dark corners, and you wonder if it'll make your thoughts cower back into the recesses of your mind, where they belong. It doesn't. You knew it wouldn't, just like it didn't the night before, or the one before that… it doesn't keep you from trying though. Maybe that's your problem, you won't stop trying.

It's 2 am when you start to wonder if it'd be easier to give up.

You don't have much to give up on, you realize suddenly. No husband, no boyfriend, no child, no family… and if you did, you wonder how long they'd stay around before realizing you weren't worth the effort. Not long. There isn't anyone. There isn't anyone to look for you if you disappear, catch you if you fall, cry for you if you get lost.

Your eyes travel to the gun lying on the dresser, the way it always is. But it's 2 am and all of a sudden it looks different. You wonder how it would feel in your hands, pressed to your head… and you actually have to suppress the urge to try it out. It would be so easy. It wouldn't even hurt, it would just… end. Abruptly and violently, and you can almost see the forensic team cleaning off the blood spatter. You bury your head in your hands. _What the hell is wrong with you?_

You know you would never do it. Suicide is for the weak. And _you_ are anything but weak. Still, sleep doesn't come like it's supposed to and you give your tired mind some leeway, some luxury to imagine what it wants to. You silence the voice in your head that tells you you're crazy, and instead you wonder why you've never given up. This takes you a while, but soon you figure out it's better to hurt than to feel nothing at all. Or so people say. You don't know. You're too scared to find out.

It's 2 am and you're looking in the mirror when you realize she lied to you, that they _all_ lied to you.

In the dim light of your bedroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You're not ugly, you realize. In fact you can remember a time when your blue eyes were bright with hope instead of bloodshot; when you carried a few extra pounds and looked happier; you remember a time when you were beautiful. She lied to you. You aren't a mistake like your mother always said. You pinch yourself just to make sure.

He lied to you too. You don't want to be alone, and tears spring to your eyes when you remember the way he threw your pleading words back at you and walked away. You thought you were over this. Apparently not. You thought at least you were good at ignoring the hurt that cropped up every time you thought about it. No such luck. But he lied. You don't want to be alone.

It's 2 am when you wonder why you can't meet anyone good, and then you realize he's been there all along.

As always, your thoughts stray to your partner at work. And as always, you want to bang your head against the wall. You wonder why you're so stupid. But that thought quickly gives way to the warmth you can't help but admits fills your soul when you think of him. He wouldn't lie to you. He would be there for you, if you asked. Sometimes he knows without asking when something's wrong, and he wordlessly offers to do your paperwork. The next day he watches carefully, and he smiles when you look marginally better. He's good.

Still, you're stupid.

Because you've fallen in love with him.

Maybe you fell in love with him a long time ago. You aren't sure exactly when it happened. But you know you love him. You love him so much you can hardly believe it, and you think maybe that's why you haven't given up yet. Because of him. Because of the possibility he could love you too. You remember years ago when you fell into bed together, and you remember the mutual agreement you came to afterward. Don't talk about it, pretend it never happened. You thought it was him avoiding you, but you know now you were just as responsible. Maybe it was all circular. Doesn't matter now that you've watched him move on.

You want to believe that the two of you becoming partners was more than just happenstance. That it was fate, or destiny, or something like that, but you can't quite manage it. After all, the universe has a funny way of deciding who you'll fall in love with. You don't think it's done too good a job for you.

It's 2 am when your hand is hovering over the phone and you want to call him.

You think about how good it would be to hear his voice, the way it caresses the one syllable that is your name. Your hand closes around plastic, clutching tightly. You perch on the end of the bed, just teetering on the edge of completely losing control. This isn't like you. You don't reach out. But it's 2 am and anything can happen. You can be someone else for the night.

You almost manage to convince yourself it's true when the _real_ truth hits you. You're always going to be _you_. You're always going to be reserved, guarded, broken, and scared of love. Scared of love, but scared of life alone. Trapped in some sort of limbo. You bite down on your lip and draw blood, and your finger hovers over the illuminated number 1 on your phone. His speed dial. It would be so easy, one push of a button to hear his reassuring words in your ear.

You wonder if he's with a woman tonight, and the thought makes you throw the phone across the room.

It's 2 am when you realize you aren't as strong as you thought (hoped) you were.

You're only human after all, no matter how much you've always wanted to rise about it all. Soon the tears trickle down your face and you clutch a pillow for support. You don't cry. Ever since you realized all that time ago that it doesn't help, you've made a habit of swallowing the tears. Especially in front of other people. But you figure it's 2 am and your cats don't mind much so why not.

It's 2 am when you're breathless and you've run out of tears.

You huddle back into your bed, waiting for sleep to claim you. Maybe you'll get lucky tonight and it will. You hope that tomorrow, no one will notice anything about how tired you'll look. You know that they will. They won't say anything though, and maybe that's the saddest thing of all.

It's 2 am when your eyes finally flutter shut.

You do sleep. Curled up and fitfully, but still, sleep is sleep. A little while later the frown on your features smoothes out and your lips curl up in a small smile. The luminous dial on your clock turns one last time, the number no longer reading 2 am.

It isn't 2 am, and you're you again.

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**If you've made it this far, without wanting to kill yourself out of irritation from my random drabbles, please leave me a review. It would be nice to hear from you guys and constructive criticism is always good. **


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